


"Sing We Now of Christmas"

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-12-20
Updated: 1999-12-20
Packaged: 2018-11-10 14:52:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived atDue South Archive. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDue South Archive collection profile.





	"Sing We Now of Christmas"

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    This story is M/M Fraser/Kowalski slash.
    
    **RATING:**  PG.
    
    **WARNINGS:**  None, except that this is a very romantic holiday
    story.  So if you dislike sentiment, stop here. : )
    
    **Note:**  B  & E stands for breaking and entering.  And the wonderful
    song mentioned in this story, "Upon a Christmas Eve" by Michael Johnson,
    is from the CD "The Stars Come Out for Christmas".
    
    **DISCLAIMER:**  Of course, these characters don't belong to me, at
    Christmas and otherwise.
    
    **SING WE NOW OF CHRISTMAS**
     Caroline Alert
    December 19, 1999
    
    ****
    
    Sing We Now of Christmas
    
    
    
    
    
     By Caroline Alert
    
    
    
    	Ray Kowalski looked at the staircase leading up to his apartment with
    glazed eyes.  It was only a few flights up, but tonight, it felt like
    miles.  *Been a long day.  No -- more like a long two days.*   Yesterday,
    he'd worked all day and all night too; his regular shift, plus an all-night
    stakeout of a drug dealer's place, as a favor to another Detective. 
    Ordinarily, after pulling two shifts in a row like that, he could've
    taken the next day off.  But they were always short of officers at Christmas
    time, so he'd volunteered to pick up the slack, and work some extra shifts
    for guys who had families.  So he'd done the same thing today.  After
    the stakeout, he'd come home just long enough to shower and change his
    clothes.  Then he'd gone back to the 27th , and it was all aboard for
    fun time again, with another night's stakeout to follow. 
    
    	*Well, my Dad had warned him not to volunteer for anything,* he thought.
    
    	As soon as he'd hit the door in the morning, the 27th had started to
    fill up with more than its usual share of hookers, pimps, thieves and
    ne'er do wells.  As he'd headed for the break room to get a cup of coffee,
    still bleary-eyed from the unsuccessful stakeout the night before, a
    junkie Huey was arresting had tossed his cookies all over his boots.
    To add insult to injury, later that afternoon, a suspect he'd collared
    for B & E punched him while resisting arrest.  And the fun didn't end
    when his day shift did.  After that, from 6 p.m. on, he went on stakeout
    again.  He and Johnson, the narc he was working the drug case with, didn't
    pack it in until two a.m., after the scumbag dealer's lights had been
    out for hours, and it was obvious nothing was going to happen that night.
    
    	Ray shook his head wryly.  *Day in the life of a cop.  What a picnic.*
    He fingered his jaw, and winced a little.  It still ached.  And to top
    it all off, to make everything just perfect, since the Ice Queen was
    throwing a Christmas Ball at the Consulate, Fraser was overloaded with
    work too.  So between that and his stakeout, they'd hardly seen each
    other for the last week.
    
    	It was almost 3 a.m. now.  He knew he should be glad to be home, and
    looking forward to seeing Fraser, but he was too done in to feel anything
    positive.  He looked down at his boots.  At this point, it was easier
    than trying to hold his head up.  But the view wasn't exactly inspiring.
    Despite his hasty attempt to clean them off in the can that morning,
    he could still see traces of junkie vomit at the edges of his soles.
    Not to mention the fact that since Johnson was a chain smoker, he reeked
    of stale cigarette smoke, too.  He sighed.  *Helluva way to spend Christmas
    Eve,* he thought.  
    
    	Then it hit him:  until that second, he hadn't thought about what day
    it was.  Not once.
    
    	Somewhere beneath his exhaustion, regret stirred.  Old memories surfaced.
    When he was a kid, Christmas Eve was something special.  Even magical.
    His mom used to make shortbread and Christmas cookies, and she'd let
    him and his brother stay up late, put out some of the cookies on the
    fireplace mantle for Santa, and even open a present early.  Any present
    they wanted.  He smiled a little, remembering that. 
    
    	Then his smile disappeared.  Christmas Eve used to be about family.
    Cookies.  Magic.  Now, he felt like he was a thousand miles away from
    all that.  Trapped in some other, much darker universe, where evil, rather
    than magic, ruled.  *Now it's about drug dealers.  Junkies.  Criminals
    and cigarette smoke....*   Now he'd gone through the whole day -- missed
    it, really -- without even noticing it.  Without feeling even one tiny
    smidgen of happiness.
     
    	It wasn't a comforting thought.  But it was followed by an even worse
    one.  *Christmas Eve.  Gifts.  Oh, no!*  He felt a wave of panic.  *I
    told Ben to come over so we could open a gift on Christmas Eve this year,
    like we used to do when I was a kid.  How the hell did I forget that?*
    But somehow, in the rush of the last few days, he had.  He'd even forgotten
    to get Ben's presents.  Even though he'd forgotten about his idea of
    a Christmas Eve get together, he'd  still meant to do that today.  But
    things got away from him.  He'd been so tired, and so busy, that it had
    completely slipped his mind.  And now it was past midnight.  Christmas
    Eve was officially over.  He'd missed it. 
    
    	*You moron!  You suck,* he told himself.  He'd let Ben down.  He usually
    gave him an armload of presents at Christmas, but this year, he'd gotten
    so bogged down with work that he hadn't even gotten him one gift; and
    now, it was far too late to try.  All of the stores would be closed.
    He hung his head, feeling less like going home now than ever.  Cuz he
    knew Fraser wouldn't have forgotten.  Ben never forgot important stuff
    like that.  Not ever.  He was probably upstairs right now, waiting for
    him, gift in hand. 
    
    	And he didn't have anything for him.  Not so much as a party hat. 
    
    	*I'm scum,* he thought bleakly, feeling a thousand years old as he forced
    his boots up the stairs at last.
    
    	When he opened their apartment door quietly, Dief came running to greet
    him, as usual.  But he shushed him before he could start barking, because
    he saw Ben sitting on the couch in a blue flannel shirt and jeans, his
    head back, fast asleep.  And just as he'd feared, there were two gifts
    sitting on the coffee table in front of him.  A Christmas tree stood
    on a stand in the corner as well, waiting to be decorated. 
    
    	Ray winced.  The gifts were not a shock.  But the tree was.  A minor
    one, that would've been kinda pleasant under other circumstances, but
    that just added to his load of guilt right now.  He hadn't expected Ben
    to go to all the trouble of getting him a tree, too.  Worse still, since
    the lights were on, he knew Ben must've fallen asleep waiting for him
    to get home and open his presents.  He was sweet that way.
    
    	*He'd do anything for me,* Ray thought, swamped with guilt.  Plus, he
    suspected that Ben had really been looking forward to opening a gift
    early himself, and to decorating the tree with him.  Probably because
    his own childhood Christmases had been so lousy.
    
    	Ray stared glumly at his sleeping lover, feeling doubly guilty.  He'd
    always tried to make that up to Ben every year, by getting him lots of
    gifts.  Decorating the tree with him, drinking egg nog, all that stuff.
    But this year, he'd screwed up, big time.  A memory flashed through his
    mind, of how Fraser had once said, "I may be empty-handed, but I am not
    empty-trousered."
    
    	Ray swallowed hard.  *I'm both.  Hell, I'm worse.  Not just empty-handed
    and trousered:  empty-headed, too.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.*
    
    	"Ray!"  Ben woke suddenly, and looked right at him, as if he'd sensed
    his gaze on him even in his sleep.  
    
    	Ray tried to smile, but it was a weak effort.  
    
    	Ben sat up, rubbed his eyes and stretched a little.  "I'm glad you're
    home," he said, smiling. But the way his face lit up, the affection in
    his voice, was just one more lash across Kowalski's guilty back.
    
    	It seemed that Ben hadn't noticed yet that he wasn't carrying anything.
    *Or maybe he thinks I got his stuff stashed away in the bedroom somewhere.
    Gotta tell him,* Ray thought miserably.  Cuz he never lied to Ben.  Never.
    And today would be the worst of all possible days to start.  "I forgot,"
    he mumbled wretchedly at last. 
    
    	"What?"
    
    	"I forgot.  To get your presents, I mean.  I've been on this stakeout,
    two nights running.  No sleep.  Then there was this junkie -- he blew
    chunks all over my boots," he said.  He was babbling, and he knew it,
    but he was so tired, he couldn't think of the right way to explain his
    failure.  "Then this B & E, he clipped me on the jaw, and --  well, never
    mind.  Anyhow, I'm sorry I didn't make it home in time to decorate the
    tree.  Thanks for that, and --"
    
    	"What?"  Fraser was on his feet suddenly, his eyes narrowing with concern
    as he strode over to him.  "Someone hit you, Ray?  Are you all right?"
    
    	Kowalski couldn't believe it.  "Dintcha hear me?  I said, I forgot to
    --" 
    
    	"Yes, I heard you," Ben interrupted quietly.  But it seemed the only
    part of his babble that had really registered with him was the part where
    he said he'd been punched, because Ben stopped in front of him and turned
    his head from side to side, examining Ray's jaw.  "But the presents aren't
    important."
    
    	"Not important?" Ray echoed, confused.  "Whaddaya mean?"  *He must be
    bein' polite.  Gotta be.  I know how much Christmas means to him.*
    
    	"Just that," Ben said firmly.  "I know you've been very busy, and you're
    obviously tired.  That can wait."  He finished his close inspection of
    Ray's face, and evidently reassured that no serious damage had been done,
    he smiled warmly at him.  "I'm just glad you're home safe.  As you've
    often said, Christmas can bring out the worst in people." 
    
    	*Or the best,* Ray thought, still dazed at the easy way Ben had forgiven
    him for the unpardonable sin of forgetting his gifts. 
    
    	"You look tired," Ben repeated.  "Come and sit down.  Take off your
    coat...." 
    
    	Too exhausted to protest, Ray let Ben lead him to their couch.  But
    he had no intention of letting the matter of his Christmas presents go.
    "Look, so I'm tired.  'S no excuse," he muttered, as Fraser pushed him
    gently down onto the couch, and pulled off his coat.  "You got me stuff,
    and --"
    
    	"Not just me.  One of those is from Diefenbaker," Ben explained, nodding
    his head at the gifts on the table as he knelt in front of Ray.
    
    	Ray blinked, stunned.  Across the room, Diefenbaker grinned a wolfy
    grin at him, and wagged his tail happily.  
    
    	"Oh," he said weakly, wondering if that was supposed to make him feel
    better.  Actually, it made him feel even worse.  *Jeez, even the wolf
    remembered Christmas!*  Though how Dief had managed to pick something
    out, let alone buy it, was a mystery to him.  *They issuin' Visa cards
    to wolves now?*  Still, somehow, Dief had done it.  And despite all the
    overtime he'd put in on the Consulate's Christmas ball lately, Fraser
    had done it, too.  He was the only one, the only one who'd forgotten
    .... 
    
    	*I just don't have it in me anymore,* he thought, totally disheartened
    and ashamed.  *I've lost it.  That thing, the Christmas spirit.  I don't
    have it anymore.  It got lost somewhere.  Too many late nights on scumbag
    stakeouts, chokin' on stale cigarette smoke.  Too many junkies and crackwhores
    and knives and guns and --* 
    
    	Ray realized belatedly, as Ben took his right boot in his hands, that
    he was going to take them off for him.  That he was stripping him down,
    like a dad with a tired little kid.  And it was too much.  "No, don't,"
    he grated, his voice thick.  Undone by one kindness too many, he pulled
    his foot away.
    
    	Ben looked up at him, his dark brows drawing together in surprise. 
    "What's the matter?"
    
    	He was beautiful, so beautiful and kind and loving that it broke Ray's
    heart.  He didn't deserve him, didn't deserve him at all.  The Mountie
    had thought of everything:  presents, even a tree.  All for a thoughtless
    lowlife who hadn't thought of him.  Who didn't even know how to celebrate
    Christmas anymore.  
    
    	Maybe it was that, or maybe it was just sheer exhaustion catching up
    with him, but Ray felt tears sting his eyes.  "Don't touch 'em," he said
    gruffly.  "Junkie spewed all over 'em today."  That wasn't all of the
    problem, but it was as much as he could choke out.  He didn't want Ben
    to touch his dirty boots -- or him either, cuz he didn't deserve that.
    Didn't deserve to be fussed over and pampered, when he'd been an insensitive
    idiot.  "Lemme do it."  He bent forward, meaning to pull his boots off
    himself, but Ben caught his tired face in his hands instead.  
    
    	"Ray," he said, very gently.  "It's all right."  Then he kissed him,
    just as gently.  So gently that Ray felt a tear slide down his cheek.
    
    	"No it's not," he whispered.  
    
    	But Ben didn't seem to hear him.  He just leaned forward and hugged
    him.  "Yes it is.  We're together.  That's all that counts," he murmured
    into his ear. 
    
    	Ray tried to think of some way to object to that, some way to explain
    why he felt so bad, not just about the gifts but about his own lack of
    holiday spirit.  But his head was spinning with tiredness.  The words
    just wouldn't come.  And Ben felt infinitely warm, solid and comforting.
    So he just let himself melt for a minute, melt against his lover's big,
    strong body.  He knew he didn't deserve Ben, but he felt good, so damn
    good he couldn't resist.
    
    	"I smell like smoke," he heard himself mumble inanely after a time.
    "Johnson smokes.  Like a friggin' chimney --"  
    
    	"I surmised as much.  It's all right, Ray," Ben repeated.  "You're exhausted.
    You should go to bed --"
    
    	"No."  He shook his head stubbornly.  He couldn't go to bed, he had
    to think of something.  Some way to make it all up to Ben....
    
    	"Then at least lie down and rest for a minute."
    
    	Part of him didn't want to do that either.  Part of him knew he had
    to do something about the gift problem, that he should ransack their
    apartment to try to find something, anything he could give Ben for Christmas
    -- but the other half of him couldn't seem to keep his eyes open.  The
    tired half won out.  He let Ben lay him down on the couch, and he didn't
    even protest any more when he felt Ben tugging gently at his boots. 
    
    	"Sorry," he whispered, his eyes drifting shut against his will.  He
    felt like he was sinking down into the couch, like it was water.  Or
    like he had no bones or something.  "Tomorrow -- I'll get somethin' for
    ya tomorrow, I promise."
    
    	"Just rest for a minute," Ben said quietly, soothingly from somewhere
    above him.  "I have something special to give you.  Something that will
    make you feel better...." 
    
    	Ray couldn't imagine what that would be, what could possibly make him
    feel better about being such a Scrooge.  About not being able to get
    into Christmas anymore. But before he could figure it out, he fell asleep.
    
    	He woke to music.  He never knew if it was a few minutes, or a few hours
    later, but when he opened his eyes, Ben was sitting at the other end
    of the couch, quietly strumming a guitar.  Ray was surprised.  He hadn't
    even known Ben could play.  He'd never mentioned it....  But there didn't
    seem to be much of anything the Mountie couldn't do.  He'd gotten used
    to that now.  
    
    	As far as Ray could tell, Ben wasn't playing a song.  Just soft notes
    that seemed to flow together somehow anyway.  Dief was curled up on the
    floor nearby, watching him for all the world as if he were enjoying the
    music, too.  
    
    	"Pretty," Ray said, meaning it.
    
    	Ben looked up and smiled.  "This is what I wanted to give you, Ray.
    Your first present, on Christmas Eve.  Well, actually, it's later than
    that now.  It's actually early Christmas morning, but --"
    
    	Ray shrugged.  "It's still dark out.  What's the dif?"  He even managed
    a smile.  Somehow, the bit of sleep he'd gotten had done him good.  His
    head, and his heart, didn't feel quite as heavy anymore.  Or maybe it
    was the music.... 
    
    	"Okay then.  Here it is," Ben said, ducking his head a little shyly.
    "I learned this song for you, Ray."  He played some gentle, plaintive-sounding
    chords, then he began to sing softly: 
    
    	_I walked out on Christmas Eve,
    	To see the city lights.
    	Up and down the avenue,
    	I marveled at the sights.
    	Flung out diamonds, strung out pearls
    	Shimmered in the cold,
    	While dark skyscrapers stood their watch
    	On windows dressed with gold. 
    
    	And like a Wiseman chasing stars, 
    	I looked for a child.
    	The one asleep inside of me,
    	Whom Christmas once beguiled.
    	Through the falling snow I tracked
     	A fading memory.
    
    	Until, decked out in ragged clothes,
    	An angel came to me.	
    	She smiled and said, "The one you've lost
    	Is easy to retrieve.  All you need
    	To bring him home
    	Is something to believe."
    
    	Then a thousand bells rang out,
    	Announcing Christmas morn.
    	And at that moment I did feel 
    	The child in me reborn. 
    
    	So fill your heart with love tonight,
    	And wear it on your sleeve;
    	For all good things are possible,
    	Upon a Christmas Eve.
    	For all good things are possible
    	Upon a Christmas Eve._
    
    	Ben fingered the last chord, then stopped playing.  
    
    	But the song seemed to go on, its sweet melody hanging in the air, sounding
    in Ray's heart.  He stared at his lover in awe.  How had Ben figured
    out what was wrong with him?  He hadn't known how to tell him -- but
    still, Ben had somehow known.  And with that song, he'd somehow fixed
    it.  Helped him find his way back to what Christmas was all about again.
    
    	Suddenly, he remembered the smell of his mom's Christmas cookies.  It
    mingled in his mind with the fresh, here-and-now scent of the pine tree
    Fraser had placed in the corner.  Ray's eyes were shining, and his tiredness
    had vanished.  He felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders,
    like he was six years old again -- only better.  Luckier.  It didn't
    matter so much, now, that he hadn't gotten Ben's Christmas gift yet.
    Ben had helped him remember something he'd almost forgotten, something
    that had gotten buried under the weight of years:  that Christmas wasn't
    just about things that came in brightly wrapped packages.  Christmas
    was about other things, too.
    
    	Like the warmth in Ben's gorgeous blue eyes, that had always meant home
    to him.
    
    	Ray felt a surge of joy, of love, so strong that he got tears in his
    own eyes for the second time that night.  "Come mere," he said softly.
    When Ben put down his guitar and moved over beside him, Ray took him
    in his arms and laid back down on the couch.  "I loved dat," he whispered,
    holding Ben against his heart.  He kissed the top of his dark head tenderly.
    "It was beautiful.  Best Christmas present anyone's ever given me.  Toldja
    lately that I love you?"
    
    	He felt Ben smile.  "Not tonight, Ray."
    
    	"Well, I do.  And ... thank you.  For the song, and the reminder." 
    
    	"You're welcome, Ray," Ben said.  "I'm glad you liked it."  And the
    happiness in his voice told Kowalski that maybe he hadn't really come
    home with empty pockets after all.  That maybe what he'd just said meant
    more to Ben than anything you could wrap Christmas paper around.  So
    maybe it wasn't so bad, that he hadn't brought something home from the
    store for him.  *Yet, anyway.  There's always tomorrow....*  
    
    	Ben wrapped his arms around him too, and for a few minutes, they just
    lay together in a warm, contented silence, with Ben's dark head pillowed
    on Ray's chest.  Both of them were still thinking of the words in the
    song.
    
    	*'All good things',* Ray thought.  *I got dat.  Got everything in the
    world I need, right here.*  Cuz when he held Ben like this, the pimps
    and the pushers and the junkies were a million miles away.  Somewhere
    outside of his happy world.  All that was real was the man in his arms.
    The best Christmas gift anyone could ever ask for. 
    
    	*'Until decked out in ragged clothes, an angel came to me.'  An apt
    description of Ray Kowalski,* Ben thought fondly, holding Ray gently
    in his arms.  He marveled, as he always had, that in the midst of this
    huge, turbulent, often dangerous city, fate had led him to this good,
    loving, generous man:  to his very own blond angel.  He didn't need presents
    to make him happy.  He'd already been given all that any man could possibly
    want.
    
    	Then Ray smiled.  "See dat?" he asked.
    	
    "See what?"
    
    	"The big red thing on my sleeve," Ray answered, holding his right arm
    up in front of Ben's puzzled eyes.
    
    	"I don't --"
    
    	"Give ya a hint:  it's a muscle, it's red, and it beats about 80 times
    a minute," Ray told him.  "Got it pinned to my sleeve.  It's my first
    Christmas Eve present for you." 
    
    	"Ahh," Ben said.  A quiet smile spread across his lips, as understanding
    dawned.  "Yes.  I see it now.  It's your heart, isn't it, Ray?"
    
    	"Yeah.  I'm wearin' it there for you.  Just like in the song.  And wouldja
    lookit that:  it's Mountie red," he said, smiling like the boy he'd once
    been.  That he still was, when he was with Fraser.
    
    	Ben looked down at him tenderly.  "I love you, Ray," he said softly.
    
    And in his beautiful blue eyes, Kowalski saw all the Christmas magic
    he could ever want.  "Love you, too.  Merry Christmas, Ben," he said,
    as Ben bent his head to kiss him.
    
    	"Merry Christmas, my love," Ben whispered against his mouth.
    
    --------------------------------------------THE END------------------------------------
    
    email the author:  (Caroline Alert)
    


End file.
